On July 3rd, 2023, I got a hug from Chip Richter.
The hug was unexpected. I had attended three concerts of his as a child, as many as my dad could find that were relatively close to us and attainable cost-wise. For years now my dad has been wanting to take my girls to one of Chip’s concerts, as an excuse to go himself because he’s really more of a fan than I am. We listened to all his music when I was little, and I had most of the songs memorized. My dad’s favorite was “Branching Out” and mine was “Spring Up, O Well,” or “Designed To Shine,” or his cover of “Here Comes the Sun” because it’s one of my favorite songs ever (or possibly “Branching Out” too because it’s about trees and is fun, but I wasn’t going to admit that to my dad). Chip has been described as: “An engaging family style artist who is one part Mister Rogers blended with equal parts Mr. Lennon and Mr. McCartney1.” I just knew that his songs were fun and quirky and didn’t give me that sick, twisty feeling in my belly that other Christian children’s music artists often did. Even in concerts he felt safe to be around. But I had never actually met him, and wasn’t hoping to now that I was going to see him again as a deconstructed-Christian-ish adult. Mostly, I was just hoping that hearing his music again wouldn’t ruin my happy memories of his concerts from childhood. I hadn’t even listened to any of his songs before the concert, in the same way that I haven’t reread some of my favorite books from when I was younger, because I just don’t know how I’ll react to them now and I would rather preserve the happy memories from childhood, intact, as much as possible. So, I was decidedly on guard as the concert started, and also unprepared for the pleasant surprise of Chip Richter as an older, more seasoned performer in his natural habitat.
What the heck is a Chautauqua? I had been hearing the word all day, spoken—even by my parents—as though it was assumed that the word needed no explanation. This Chautauqua was called Lakeside, hugging a mile of Erie’s coastline near Marblehead and Kelly’s Island. It seemed to be a sort of closed community/revival meeting that ran the entire summer. Say the words “closed Christian community” and all I hear is another “C” word that is four letters long and leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, so I had my hackles up from the moment we walked in. Their “pillars” were: arts, education, recreation, and religion; which didn’t sound threatening. We were told this by one of many golf cart shuttle drivers who swept us off the hot pavement and through the tree- and house-lined streets that all seemed to be named for trees: Oak. Maple. Elm. Peach. Sycamore. A number of businesses lined the streets that weren’t filled with tiny vacation homes, which reminded me of Hollow Rock, only much bigger and more prosperous. Hollow Rock: the ten-day revival meeting I had attended with my parents and siblings every year from my thirteenth summer until I moved out. The association was…bittersweet. Lots of really good and really bad memories nestled like eggs in that picturesque wooded valley. I set my jaw and tried not to judge Lakeside before the place had a chance to earn it.
Lakeside was completely different from Hollow Rock in many ways. Flatter, for one thing; the land stretching out to meet the lake. What had once been “Lover’s Lane” was now a foot path along the waterfront, with a bell from an old tower on display near the amphitheater where the concert was to be held. Looking around, it felt like a huge joint vacation. Everyone just seemed so happy to be there, I immediately felt like an outsider. Not because I wasn’t happy, but because I was still reserving judgement. This was not “my” place, in the way it seemed to belong to everyone else here. Old friends seemed to be everywhere, catching up since last summer. We took the girls to the playground nearby to work off their energy before having to sit, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of being the new kid on the block. But I smiled and chatted, being the Grateful Daughter, because this meant a lot to my parents and I really did want to enjoy it, preferably without having to make myself enjoy it, without having to hide the wince every time everyone else said “amen.” The sun was hot and just low enough to be more immediately intense, the way it is in the summer right before evening falls. I was thirsty and the girls needed a snack. We took our seats.
“Chautauqua” (pronounced “Shuh - TAWK - wuh, with the TAWK rhyming with ‘awkward,’” according to a post on the forum FlyerTalk.com, which sounds the same to my untrained ear as how I was hearing it pronounced at Lakeside) is defined by my old friends Merrian and Webster as:
any of various traveling shows and local assemblies that flourished in the U.S. in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, that provided popular education combined with entertainment in the form of lectures, concerts, and plays, and that were modeled after activities at the Chautauqua Institution of western New York2.
Chautauqu Institution defines their purpose thusly:
Chautauqua is dedicated to the exploration of the best in human values and the enrichment of life through a program that explores the important religious, social and political issues of our times; stimulates provocative, thoughtful involvement of individuals and families in creative response to such issues; and promotes excellence and creativity in the appreciation, performance and teaching of the arts3.
First started by John Heyl Vincent and Lewis Miller in 1874 as a training program for Sunday School teachers, it quickly grew to support adult education of all varieties. Although both Vincent and Miller were Methodists, they “were very clear that their intent was educational, rather than revivalist4,” embracing all walks of faith in their pursuit of lifelong learning. The idea spread like wildfire, becoming a Movement in truth. According to Chautauqua.org:
The Chautauqua Movement was the largest event that has ever existed in the US or Canada. Taking its cue from the proceeding Lyceum movement the first Chautauqua was held on idyllic Lake Chautauqua (hence the name) in 1874. Its mix of arts and entertainment became an instant hit. By the turn of the 20th century there were Chautauquas held one coast to the other. In 1904 the Chautauqua idea got on the rails and went mobile. Held in large brown tents Chautauquas were found in nearly every town in the country. Powered by its superstar speakers, international music stars, theatre, vaudeville, scientists, and politicians it had become a sensation. By 1924 a 1,000 Circuit or Traveling Chautauquas were playing in over 10,000 towns with an attendance of over 40,000,000 Americans…When Chautauqua came to a town all normal activity stopped as each town's citizen's dedicated a week of their lives to learn, to be entertained, and to join in community5.
The word “chautauqua” is from the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) people who originally inhabited the region. Although the meaning apparently doesn’t translate well to English (“bag tied in the middle,” or “two moccasins tied together,” or “jumping fish”), it seems to reference the shape of the lake in New York that bears the name, along the banks of which the very first gathering was held. But by 1915, when the movement reached it’s peak, it meant education, opportunity, and community. For many lower class adults, especially women, Chautauqua was their only available means for ascending beyond grade school-level learning. Teddy Roosevelt, after visiting the Chautauqua Institution in New York, is said to have remarked that Chautauqua was: “a source of positive strength and refreshment of mind and body…a gathering that is typically American in that it is typical of America at its best6.” High praise. Of course, I didn’t look up the word and it’s various meanings until after I got home, and when I did one thought kept running through my mind: How the hell was I only hearing this word for the first time?
What struck me first about Chip Richter was that he sounded exactly the same as he had twenty years ago. The second thing that struck me was how not preachy he was. I hadn’t ever thought about his music in that way, but the similarity to Mister Rogers is an apt one. Not only does he seem to listen deeply to children (even letting one gregarious young boy who regularly attends “God Squad,” Chip’s children’s program, stop him in the middle of a song and insist that he start over because he wasn’t “doing it right,” which he took in stride), but he rarely refers to God by name. Twice during the concert he prayed aloud, and neither time did he address his prayer to anyone specifically, as though it were part of an ongoing conversation and needed none. For someone who admittedly still flinches at the words “God” or “Jesus” in the mouth of someone (particularly a masculine someone) who is in a position of influence, this omission was refreshing. Chip wasn’t there to “save” anyone, not with preaching at any rate. He was there for the kids, and kids see straight through grandstanding without even trying. He played songs and invited them to dance, and they hung on every word, holy and goofy alike. It felt more like church than anything I’ve attended in a long time.
And when, at the end, my dad dragged us up to the front to get our picture taken with Chip, I went. I thanked him for his music, told him I had attended concerts of his when I was my daughter’s age, and had enjoyed this one just as much (which was true). And then he asked if he could hugged me, and I felt a surge of emotion I was not expecting at all. The feeling lingered as we walked to The Patio for a late dinner, and then out to the pier. The sun set brilliantly, and I held Lee’s hand tightly while she leaned over the edge to peer into the murky water lapping below. I felt off balance while walking, my brain timing my steps to incoming waves that I couldn’t feel through the sturdy concrete of the pier; but standing still I could look out over the water and remember kayaking Lake Ontario into a sunset just like this, two years and a lifetime ago. Rena and my dad both came back from that trip with Lyme’s disease. It was only a year after my sister died, and too soon for another medical emergency. Coming to any of the Great Lakes pushes her anxiety up to another level after that, but the music was still in her body, her native language. For the first time in a long time I felt untouchable. And when a stranger approached me with his phone outstretched, asking if he could send me this cool picture he had taken, capturing the moment, it felt right. Reflections were his thing, he said. I couldn’t agree more.
Chip has played at the Lakeside Chautauqua for so many years he has an entire album titled, “Lost in Lakeside,” full of songs devoted to the place he loves. Listening to his music with adult ears, I can see how the idea of Chautauqua has informed so much of his style and presentation. He doesn’t just sing fun songs to children, he educates them—and very little of it is overtly religious. He also sings about nature, relationships, dreams, childhood, and how not to get lost in Lakeside, Ohio. His music is a celebration of humanity; a Chautauqua for the very young. I feel profoundly grateful to have been given back this piece of my childhood, intact, and worth joyfully celebrating as an adult with my own kids. It felt appropriate that the concert occurred on the first Full Moon of the summer, as this idea of Chautauqua feels like it’s worth sitting with for a while. In the coming weeks of reflection as the moon wanes and prepares to be reborn on the 17th, I think I’d like to take some time to consider what role I would like Chautauqua to play in my life, in our family’s life, and how that might tie to the lunar cycles of growth and introspection. And I’ll probably be listening to a familiar voice and guitar while I do.
Benson, John. The Youngstown Vindicator. Quoted on: chiprichter.com. Accessed: July 5, 2023.
https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/chautauqua. Accessed: July 5, 2023.
Chautauqua Institution. “About: Our Mission.” https://www.chq.org/about/. Accessed: July 5, 2023.
Colorado Chautauqua Association. “The Chautauqua Movement.” https://www.chautauqua.com/2021/chautauqua-movement-history/. Accessed: July 5, 2023.
New Old Time Chautauqua. “What Is A Chautauqua?” https://www.chautauqua.org/what-is-a-chautauqua.html. Accessed: July 5, 2023.
Colorado Chautauqua Association. https://www.chautauqua.com/2021/chautauqua-movement-history/.